


Cold Front

by Dr_Stain



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Aliens, Battle, Original Character(s), War, Русский | Russian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24559903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Stain/pseuds/Dr_Stain
Summary: Morozov is a Russian member of the resistance in City 17, but he never really take part in any of the fights and plans to get around the Combines, being more of a lone man. However some unexpected course of events will lead him to help clear the path.
Kudos: 5





	1. дело в шляпе

Once again, he woke up with a scream and cold sweat. 

He had been having nightmares for years now, since he arrived in City 17. His past was haunting him, every step of the way. He was seeing the same thing over and over again, with a twist sometimes, a different ending that was always the same; his family died and he couldn’t do anything about it.

He got out of his bed, really just an old mattress, and stepped in direction of the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his barely awakened face. Hazel eyes gazed at themself in the mirror, he was only in his 20’s, yet his eyes had seen the worst of the world, as could tell the bags under them. Messing his hair in an even bigger mess, he gazed at the window as he witnessed the sun rising behind the citadel, like it was playing peek-a-boo with humanity. 

He sighed, his stomach screaming for food of any kind, these water flavored rations were like eating dirt, and even dirt had more nutrients than that. Actually, sometimes he’d eat cooked headcrabs, like a Vortigaunt once told him how to do it perfectly. It wasn’t the most tasteful thing he’d eaten, but it was better than whatever the Combine was forcing down the throat of everyone. In any way, headcrabs were too much in the morning for Morozov, not for Clickerton though. 

After putting on his turtleneck, boots and vest, he left his apartments for Route Kanal with a backpack to meet his friend. He had to go on the rooftops and underground, as he didn’t have a way from the ground, these Combines liked closing every path there was to go around City 17.  
He didn’t want to alert anyone, so shooting the drones was out of the question, luckily he knew how to stay hidden. After an hour of walking, crawling and hiding, he arrived at his friend’s hideout. It was relatively big, a dead end, and Xen flaura was starting to grow here and there. 

“ Klklklkl ” Morozov called for his friend. “ Hey Clicky, got some breakfast for you. ” Opening his backpack, he took out 3 headcrab carcasses and threw them on the floor, right in front of the dark entrance. It only took a few seconds for Clickerton to show up.

He approached with a faint clicking noise, like a small bug, that was the size of a tall creature, taller than a man. A claw came to light first, covered in scars, and another was but old rusty metal, a DIY prosthetic. Finally, the Antlion Guard came out of his nest and started eating his breakfast, making happy clicking noises. 

“ Yeah I’m early I know, I’m sure you get used to it though.” Morozov said, his voice hoarse, as he sat on an old tractor tire. “ You know I still get those nightmares.” The Alien creature looked up to him. “Yeah… same story as the other days.” 

Clickerton approached his human friend and gave him a small head bump, which made the Russian chuckle lightly. 

The Antlion Guard had his right claw snatched by a building that fell down, he didn’t have the time to run away. There were other Antlion Guards and Antlions with him at this time, but they all left him to die; with a missing claw he was useless. Morozov had managed to approach him when he’d start to fall asleep due to exhaustion, and built a claw prosthetic all night. Everyone wouldn’t even dare to approach an alien other than a Vortigaunt, but Morozov was just really compassionate at the least fortunate times. Once he woke up, the Alien had ran away to Route Kanal, with his shoulder still hurting he fell over multiple times, the scar hadn’t healed in one night. It took Morozov a month or so of bringing him food everyday to gain his trust, and the clicking noise he’d make was well, the click in Morozov’s head that made him call the Antlion Guard Clickerton. Full name was Clickerton Fabergé the Third for some unknown reason. 

The faint sound of a siren could be heard from the city, they probably had decided to take over a building for no reason at all. 

“ Новый день, новая фигня.” Sighed Morozov. Looking over at his friend, he smiled ever so slightly. “I’m glad I get to talk to someone, even if I barely get what you’re saying.” 

“ KKKKKKKKKKKK” 

“Exactly.”

The Antlion Guard suddenly looked up behind Morozov, making him realize that a troop of Combines were approaching. Clicky prepared himself to charge into them, as Morozov took cover behind a broken wall, taking his gun out of his back. The both of them slowed their breathing, preparing to attack. It wasn’t the first time they were chased by the Combines, in fact Clickerton’s first hideout was way closer to the city. 

The Combines ran towards their position, and once they were all aligned, the Antlion Guard charged them at full speed. Some dodged the attack, which made the alien miss a strike. Morozov then stood up and shot at the Combines that were struggling to stand back up after being charged. There were probably more than 20, and after a few minutes of bullets flying and Alien charging in, there were none left. 

Once they made sure the zone was cleared, Morozov sighed and walked back to his backpack, followed by the Antlion Guard. 

“ They won’t leave you alone apparently. You’re not even really a threat to them, so why the bother. “ He said, kneeling down to open his backpack. The Alien replied with some clicking noises that sounded annoyed. 

“ You’re not too hurt ?”

“Klk klkl”  
“Good good.” Morozov took a bottle of vodka out of his backpack and took a swig of it. “ Ark. Wonder how the others could drink all that in one swig, it burns like hell.” He said as he took yet another one. 

As he went to put the bottle of liquor back inside, he took notice of a piece of paper that was neatly folded at the bottom of his backpack. He grabbed it and unfolded it as he stood up. It was like a short letter, written by hand. The writing wasn’t the most beautiful ever, but it looked professional. The Antlion Guard looked over Morozov’s shoulder, even though he had no idea what letters were. 

“It looks like a to-do list, but written by a living dictionary, or the Queen of England, if her name was Gelizabeth.” Morozov said, clearly unimpressed by the complexity of the words used or even how this ended up in his backpack. 

“Ah well... If I can help someone, it doesn't look like much of a hassle. It’s basically cleaning the area as best as possible, so…” 

“ Klklkik”

“ Yeah I know, after Route Kanal it’s infested. But it can’t be as bad as the QZ right ?”

“ Klk?”

“Ah yeah, you don’t know about the QZ. Anyway, let’s say... 150 headcrabs, 50 barnacles, 25 zombies. Sounds fair enough ?”

“Krrr”

“ Hey I never said I was gonna do it on my own ! You’ll come with me, plus it’ll be a nice feast for you ! And some help for that guy, I don't know why they need a path through there, but if they kindly wrote a letter like a nice little мамочка then I can give a little hand. And claw.”

Roughly shoving the paper in his pocket, Morozov grabbed his backpack and put it back in his back. “ It’s just gonna take all day, and it’s not like I have anything better to do.”


	2. Hazardous battleground

“ WHY THE FUCK IS THERE SO MUCH MOTHERFUCKING COMBINES HERE ?!!” 

Morozov hid inside a concrete tube as the soldiers were shooting endlessly in his direction. The Antlion Guard had found shelter in the ground, the mud was the perfect place for an attack from below, but the constant shooting didn’t help him detect their position. The deafening sound of the bullets flying left and right and against the concrete gave Morozov the most violent headache he had since the portal storms, he’d feel better than that if he was dead drunk. Glancing through a whole, he tried to find a way to silence most of them as fast as possible. It was hard to see anything, the concentration, and chances that a bullet flew through this whole and hit him in the eye were minimal yet there. 

Behind the wall of Combine soldiers, the man took notice of his alien friend who came out of the mud. 

“What are you doing Click..” 

In one clean sweep of the head, the Antlion Guard catapulted several inflammable barrels in the air, in the direction of the Combines. Not wasting anymore time, Morozov took the rifle he had stolen from a dead Combine when he ran out of ammo, and stepped outside his barricade. Aiming and shooting at the barrels, they exploded in the middle of the Combines, killing most of them on the spot. The others dropped dead shortly after they were striked by the Antlion Guard, and some rounds of bullets from Morozov. 

“ Holy mother Russia... “ Morozov sighed, lowering his weapon. The Antlion Guard growled a bit at his friend. “ Hey I didn’t know !! I don’t have future vision or whatever ! If I knew there were so many Combines I wouldn’t have done it. God I regret doing the chores of some anonymous asshole…” 

Grabbing back his bag from inside the concrete tube, Morozov heard the wind change direction, or rather... stop. Clickerton growled from his position. 

“What ? Is there more ? I swear to god if I have to shoot one more motherfucki-...” As he stepped outside, the Antlion Guard was in charging position, and right in between them stood a man, looking extremely suspicious.

“Who the hell are you ?” Morozov cringed at the tall figure who only gave a grin in response. Still under the adrenaline of the fight, Morozov positioned himself, about to take out his butterfly knife and run to the man’s throat. 

“ I assure you there is no need for a fight now.. Hmm, Morozov is it ?” The man spoke up, in a low and hissing tone. 

“ You’re the one who gave me that to-do list aren’t you ?” He asked the man in the suit, with the lowest level of trust possible. The Antlion Guard was still ready to run over the man, his feathers on his back shivering in anticipation. 

“ You are correct, and I must say you’ve done a particularly great job.”

“Yeah yeah, quit the monologue дедушка, what was it for? What do I gain from that ?”

“How would you say… свобода ?” Morozov lowered his guard, now he was interested. Seeing his friend do so, Clickerton left his charging position, but was still mistrustful. 

“ Now it won’t happen in a snap of any of us’ fingers. Yet, you have… prepared the terrain for all of this to.. unfold.” The man said, as he started to slowly walk towards Morozov after glancing at the Antlion Guard, making sure he wasn’t going to charge him, presumably. 

“My.. employers don’t see any particular use in someone of your like, but I thought that perhaps you could be of use in the background of our… business. And it seems like I was right.” Morozov stared at the man with the briefcase like he wanted to win the ultimate staring contest. 

“I don’t plan on working for you or your so called employers that easily.” The younger growled at the suited man, clearly not impressed.

“Aah, of course. You are the frozen one after all, the...мороз.” 

“My name has nothing to do with how much I have to trust you.” 

“Surely. You can go back to your apartments, I hope when you're in need… You will answer positively to the call.” 

“Don’t count too much on it, old man.”

“I count on it just enough.”

Suddenly Morozov’s eyes started to hurt him, to the point he had to cover them with his hands, groaning in pain. When he was able to open them again, the man was gone, and the Antlion Guard was standing next to him, lightly clicking. 

“I’m good I’m good… Fucking hell… Let’s go home.” Morozov said, as he started to walk back on the way they came here. “At least we got some headcrabs on the way, if we get some more dinner will be good.” Clickerton replied with happy clicking noises, which made the human chuckle. “ Man, I’m tired.” 

The Antlion Guard lightly pushed Morozov with his beak, to the point where he ended up on top of the Alien’s head. “Klkl”

“Haha.. alright alright. But don’t sprint, can’t hold on tight right now I’ll fall over.” 

After they had shared the bunch of headcrabs they kept to eat, Morozov returned to his flat. The Combines had taken down a whole building a few blocks away from his, he got lucky it wasn’t his. Throwing his backpack onto a chair, Morozov stepped on his balcony and looked over the city as the sun started to disappear behind the horizon, painting the sky in flaming colors. Morozov had been wondering who was this man in the suit, how he knew his name. Funny how his name did mean “frost” in Russian, well at least “moroz”. 

“I’m not that cold, I can be nice.” He said to himself. “Unless you’re an asshole that gives orders.”.

Stepping back into his apartment, he opened the fridge where way too much alcohol was stocked. He grabbed a vodka bottle and took a big swig of it. If he had low tolerance to alcohol, he’d be drunk already. The radio was playing the same tune over and over again, soft piano with some violins in the back. Morozov dreaded the other station, the one that played some distorted trumpets, that would eventually fade to some creepy melody and a sound of wind of some sort, like from another universe. 

It’s sad because the trumpets weren’t that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> дедушка : Grandpa / свобода : Freedom / мороз : frost

**Author's Note:**

> дело в шляпе : literally “ the deal is in the bag”, meaning the job is done. Yes I used this for the pun. / Новый день, новая фигня : New day, new bullshit / мамочка : Mammy, Grandma.


End file.
